


Sixth Sense

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [39]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alchohol as a coping mechanism, Angst, Idiots who need smacking about the head, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8320141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Hux does. NOT. Do. Feelings. (Really.)





	

The man tries to say it three times at least. 

Hux may not pride himself on many ‘soft’ skills when it comes to ‘people’, but he’s learned over the years when someone he’s fucking is getting too close. Normally, it’s fuck five at the latest. 

And no matter how good fuck five is, the other things are just not… worth how stellar a lay they are. No matter how big their dick is, or tight their ass, or how willing they are to eat him out… it’s just not done.

Hux does sex.

Hux does not do feelings.

He is far too busy and important to do feelings. He has a galaxy to take over, a ship to run, an image to maintain, a legacy to do justice to. You can’t do that if you’re constantly wondering what someone is thinking or feeling, or being forced to _socialise_ just to keep them putting out said dick, hole, or tongue. 

He should have known that Kylo would get all mushy on him. The man is just… he’s _always feeling things_. It must be so exhausting! How does he manage? How can he live at such a high-strung tempo all the time? Even if his metaphors mangle? It’s just more than Hux can deal with.

And he’s seen the words there in his eyes, caught in Kylo’s throat. Either turning away, or ignoring it, or shoving something in his lips has worked so far, but it can’t work forever. 

Hux does not do feelings. 

Kylo has a nice dick.

End.

(And if he did have feelings, he wouldn’t have them for _long_. Anyway.)

It’s just sex. That was the arrangement, whether it was written down or not. Hux wanted to take some of his tension off, and thought the ridiculous virgin would calm down once he got some tail. If he’d just been smart enough to keep it physical, or maybe…

No. There wasn’t anything wrong with the idea of Kylo taking other bedmates. Of course that would be… fine. Nothing wrong with it. Nothing at all. 

He’d find other fuck-buddies, and Hux could booty-comm him, and everyone would benefit.

Hah. Nothing that lump did was sensible.

The fourth attempt to confess, Hux realises he’s going to need to hear it, at least once. The tension is now higher than it was before the first assignation, and that’s defeating the object.

“What is it, Ren?”  


“I… it’s just…”  


He has something. He’s holding onto something. Oh, shit. Did he get him a _gift_? It’s… sickening! It is. Absolutely, utterly revolting. (It does not make something stir, or pitter, or patter. No.)

“Ren, are you under some delusion as to the nature of our lack of a relationship? Because I thought I was clear I was only interested in your body, and then not particularly.”  


Why does he have to be so sharp about it? The boy - the idiotic, barely deflowered moron - is just an overgrown puppy, and he’s kicking him right in the face.

He sees the emotions cross his bared face, and he knows why he wears the mask. Hurt, then anger, then fear, then hurt some more, then more anger, then some angry fear… self-loathing in there, betrayal… oh, why doesn’t he cry as well while he’s…

…shit. He is. Tearing up. His jaw grinding, his brown eyes wet. “Nothing,” Kylo says, turning tail and leaving.

Hux could have maybe handled it better. Maybe. 

***

Ren vanishes for days on end. Hux doesn’t see him, not ever.

Either he’s avoiding him deliberately, or he’s left the ship, or…

The logs say he hasn’t left his room. He has info on everyone, and Kylo hasn’t been out of his quarters. He hasn’t even really eaten the food sent up to him. He’s… pining like a lovesick fool.

Hux should never have lead him on. It had just… it had been nice. Okay? To pretend. Maybe he was broken inside to get his kicks on starting a relationship, only to destroy it? Because he knew… he knew. He led him on, and he made him feel it was okay to…

Hux doesn’t.

Want.

***

He misses him. The first time he realises it (or permits himself to realise it), he’s five (hah) large glasses of brandy into the evening. 

He’s not been able to jerk off since they… since.

He just. He can’t. It doesn’t work, and if he gets it half-way, he sees upset puppy eyes, and he curses, and punches the wall.

It wasn’t a relationship. It was just good sex. Good sex… and… relatively… enjoyable company. And. A sense of… of… thing. Humour. And… just…

He puts on a holo, trying to beat his drunken dick to hardness. It doesn’t work.

He doesn’t miss him. _Why would he_.

He was… okay. C-company. And. He was good in bed. (Had to give him that. Very good. Listened to orders.) And… s’not like… he…

***

Five brandies is not the time to go to your ex’s room, not when you pour like a General. Hux sways on the doorway. 

Kylo does not answer, not until his fist hammers on the door and he yells at him to open up.

Eventually, Kylo does so. He looks sullen, gaunt, pale.

“What do you want?”  


“I brought you… something,” Hux lies, and shoves the half-drained brandy at him.  


“I don’t want it.”  


“…I… thought you… wanted?”  


“Half a bottle of brandy, and you drunkenly trying to get - or give - a pity fuck?” Kylo shoves the bottle back at him. “No, thanks.”  


“Too fuckin’ drunk to fuck you,” Hux slurs. “Didn’t… come… fuck.”  


“Then what? You made it clear what you did - or did not - want.”  


Hux is struggling to keep up with the logic. It is too fast for his tired brain. “…jus’… felt bad…”

“For fucking me, and throwing me to the curb? Or for losing your regular sexlife?”  


Hux’s jaw snaps shut, and he takes a wobbly step backwards. “…’s’nothing…”

“Fuck off, Hux.”   


The door shuts in his face. Hux hammers on it. 

The sane would go, but what then? Kylo would have _won_ the fight, and… and… damnit. He hollers through the door, until it’s opened again.

“WHAT?”  


“I’M SORRY, OKAY,” Hux yells just as loudly, shoving the bottle again. “I WAS AN ASSHOLE.”  


Kylo blinks in surprise. Hux does, too. “…I did… not expect… you to ever apologise.”

Hux rubs at his neck, shuffling his feet. “Felt… bad.”

“Is this you… is this you trying to make a professional relationship?”  


Hux winces. It’s. So. Hard. Through the. Fog. And. “…n-no?”

“…a… romantic one?”  


Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, he tries to run, but a hand catches his sleeve. 

“I don’t _do_ dating, Ren.”  


“Then what do you want?”  


“I don’t fucking _know_. Every time someone gets close, I fucking… push them away… tell myself it’s my career, tell myself I’m not… not…”  


“…afraid.” Kylo says it.  


Hux knows it’s true, and it terrifies him all the more. He hates him for knowing, and he tries to hit him, but it sort of… doesn’t work, and then there’s hands on his wrists, and a bottle on the floor, leaking all over their boots. He pulls, horrified at the fact he can’t escape, and - this - this _manchild_. HIM.

Of all the people. **Him**. He has to go and be the one to - to - _understand_ , and… to… he’s barely able to regulate himself! He has tantrums! He fucking ran away from home! He’s a ticking timebomb!

Why did he have to - have to fucking…. fucking… _get… feelings… things… for_ **him**?

Of _all the people_. Of all the people. Him. Stupid, big-nosed, goofy-eared nerfcake. Mr Impossible To Control My Emotions. Hahahahaha. 

Hux starts to cry.

He hates himself even more. Even more still when he’s pulled into Kylo’s arms, and sniffles stupidly because, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s drunk and in the morning he’s going to wish he could execute him for _knowing all this about him_. For knowing, and…

…he isn’t… he’s… stroking his back. He’s not telling him he’s stupid for feeling, or for being afraid of feeling. Hux sniffles, and looks up.

“I’m afraid, too,” Kylo says. “But… I want to.”  


Want to. Feel such disgusting, weakening things? Such fear, such terror? Such a confusing cocktail of things that flood through him and make him want to kill, be killed, kiss, scream, fuck, hold hands, cuddle, run away, hide under the covers… fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“I’m not what… I’m… not that kind of a man,” he insists.  


“What kind?”  


“…the kind who… _do_ this. Feelings. Stuff.”  


“…you know, you feel pretty hard if you’re crying over me,” Kylo points out. He is, too. But his expression beneath those tears is a watery smile, and Hux wants to kiss, and kill, all over again.   


“I’m not a fucking… I…”  


Kylo grabs his face, kissing away the tear-tracks. It’s soft, tender, sweet. No one has ever comforted him like this before, and he feels his insides kind of puddle, and he doesn’t resist when Kylo brings him to the couch.

Sits, when he’s told. Confused.

Kylo vanishes, and comes back with a small box.

“…what… is it?”  


“It’s… it’s a piece of the Death Star,” Kylo says, shrugging. “I… keep… things. I thought… with your weapon?”  


Hux laughs. It’s weirdly gross and sentimental, and he can’t remember anyone… has he ever had a gift? A real one? Ever?

The fuck is wrong with him? That even a bit of a failed weapon is the most wonderful thing anyone ever could ever ever ever ever give him.

(He’s so fucking drunk.)

He’s wrong. Isn’t he? Wrong. To keep running. Because it’s not because it’s a rational decision, it’s one based on fear. He clutches the box to his chest, cradling it like a little light inside his heart. Man, he’s schmoopy and melodramatic, but he’s drunk, and he’s the General, and he doesn’t care.

“Th-thank you, Ren. It’s… it’s beautiful.”  


It is. It actually is. Not just the sentiment saying that.

“I know… we’re… different,” Kylo says, his voice as fraught as Hux’s. “But I want to. I want to try. I… don’t care how hard it is, at times. I want to. You make me feel… and I want to.”  


“Even… if I’m… like this?”  


“I’d prefer you liked me just as much back, but… yeah. I guess. I… like you too much to… I really, really want to.”  


“Shut up, you sentimental nerf, and kiss me.” Before I remember I’m not supposed to fall in love.  


(It’s too late. It’s way, way too late. Hux is doomed, and he knows it. Kylo kisses his tears, and his brandy-rich mouth, and Hux feels things, no matter how hard he tells himself he doesn’t.)


End file.
